The Sweet Talker (Boston Hawks Hockey #1) - Gina Azzi Page 0,56

reschedule,” I say as calmly as I can while my cousins howl.

“Sounds like you guys have known each other your whole lives. Been there for everything,” Noah comments after a few minutes.

“This one?” Aiden hooks his finger at me as I pick my wine glass up off the coffee table and take a sip. “She’s been my best friend since I was three. We were inseparable. I went to all her damn dance recitals—”

“Hey, I came to your baseball games.”

Aiden nods, polishing off his beer. “Yeah. We carpooled every morning.”

“He taught me to drive stick.” I snort, recalling that disaster.

Aiden grins. “I took you to prom.”

“Junior prom,” I clarify.

Aiden’s smile dims. “Yeah, you were with that dick Edwards senior year.”

I shrug, picking up the wine bottle. “It was still a fun night.”

Noah’s eyes track between Aiden and me as if he’s trying to find some missing link. I glance at him, about to call him out and just ask what the hell his problem is today when Aiden says, “We’ve been through it all together. Which is why I wanted to tell you in person, Indy, that I’m moving to Boston.”

My neck snaps toward his and I place down the wine bottle. A bubble of excitement swells in my chest. “What? Are you serious?”

He grins at me, nodding. “Yeah. I just got the call yesterday. I’m being transferred and well, I’ll be here full-time in about two months.”

“Oh my God!” I lunge myself at Aiden, throwing my arms around his neck. “This is the best news ever!”

22

Noah

I want to punch Aiden Hardsin in the fucking face the same way I hit Jace last night.

Jesus. My hand clenches into a fist, the scrapes along my knuckles protesting. What the hell is wrong with me? Am I just going to go around beating up all the guys who got a hard-on for Indy when I’m not willing to stake a damn claim?

I can’t. I can’t do that to her.

And Aiden, as annoying as he is, seems like a genuinely decent guy. The kind of guy that’s been looking out for Indy for the past two decades. The kind of guy who seems to hate Jace. The kind of guy that holds all her childhood moments in his mind and recalls them with perfect clarity.

I drain my beer. Bitterness and anger fill my mouth and I swipe another beer from the coffee table. In the kitchen, I hear Indy’s parents and aunt and uncle talking. Out here, the fire is warming up the space as her family and friend sit, reminiscing. This is the life she deserves. The one where she comes home to a man like Aiden and they curl up by a fire and talk about their days, recall funny stories, and make plans for the future that they know will happen.

The realization that Indy’s and my lives will never make sense the way they’re supposed to, in the manner that’s best for her, fills me with dread. How does she not see this? I’m watching her beam at Aiden—tall, works out, blond with blue eyes and an easy grin Aiden—who has been by her side every step of her life. They share private glances and inside jokes and so much goddamn laughter that my ears ring.

“I’m here for two weeks,” Aiden continues. “And then, back to Tampa for a month and then, relocating.”

“Wow!” Indy exclaims, excitement shining from her eyes like a beacon. Like Aiden just announced he cured cancer in his sleep.

Jesus, listen to me. I need to stop being so bitter. I knew from the start that we didn’t have a chance; we were never supposed to have a chance. At the end of today, I was going to tell Indy that we need to pump the breaks. That things were getting too complicated, too messy. And now…yesterday’s idea flickers to life in my mind and I swallow.

The perfect guy for Indy is sitting right here, looking at her with so much love and respect that my fingers curls into a fist. I open my mouth and force my idea, the one Easton warned me against, to detonate in the den.

“Indy, you should take Aiden to The Ivy next weekend,” I say, relieved that my voice is even and calm. Inside, my stomach clenches and my chest burns. But on the outside, I’m cool. Controlled.

All eyes in the den turn toward me.

Indy’s eyes narrow and hurt ripples over her face.

I forge ahead. “Yeah, I made reservations for Saturday